


for those who bind us

by sessile



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-16 12:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sessile/pseuds/sessile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will lives by the ocean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for those who bind us

**Author's Note:**

> This work can either be a stand-alone or seen as a continuation of ["who are we to run"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/859011). It takes place some time between "Savoureux" and _Red Dragon_. 
> 
> **Please see end notes for trigger warnings/general warnings. (Warnings contain spoilers.)**

_I will put poison in the air but it will bring her calm. I give her time for her body to say goodbye._

_Once she is still, I come in, respectfully, humbly. Her soul is gone, but her body remains, and she is finally at peace._

_I stroke her hair and cup her face, giving comfort. We are the only ones left in this world. I will tell her my secrets, and she will give hers._

_This is my design._

-

Will prepares for the day, enjoying the sunlight pouring into the bone-white kitchen, thinking of little else.

There is sausage frying in the pan behind him. Vegetarian.

There's a dog or two circling his legs. The others are enjoying the morning beach.

There is nothing here but stone-white sand, Will’s little house, and endless waves crashing.

It's all he needs. It's all he can handle.

-

Sometimes his dreams take him back here: back to the cell, back to the stone walls, back to Will endlessly shivering and Hannibal's whispers, whispers, whispers.

Will will wake up, hunched in his bed the same way he did back at the psychiatric hospital, and stare at the age-bleached room around him. He keeps the house full of light, always.

It doesn't help much. Will feels as trapped here in those moments as he was back in that prison.

No whispers now, just a terrifying blankness.

-

Jack sends him things. He's trying not to push, Will can tell. But Will's exoneration makes him impatient, reckless. He's trying not to be callous, but -

But. If Will wasn't actually crazy, then Will is still useful. Will can still do what he does.

All Will allows, though, is for Jack to send him a clipping here and there. An accompanying photo. Will scribbles a few notes and sends it back. Any more and Jack is met with silence.

Something is better than nothing. Jack will take it.

-

There is a sound of tires pulling up on gravel, and Will has a moment of blind panic.

_There's no way he can find me here._ Jack Crawford is the only one with Will’s new address.

_But even he can be compromised -_

Will stops. Breathes. Checks the gun in the kitchen drawer. Looks out the window.

A woman is stepping out of the car, shielding her eyes against the sun's rays.

Will lets out a sigh. It’s Alana.

-

He meets her out on the front porch. She doesn't even break her stride, but goes right up the steps and hugs him, tight. He is glad, he is so glad that she's here.

He inhales, and she smells familiar, normal. She is soft, and wearing too many clothes for this far south.

They don't let go for a long time.

-

When he finally pulls away to look at her, the wind blows hair into her face, and he brushes it away, to reveal a blinding, radiant smile.

"You look good," she says, squinting up at him and turning her face into the wind.

"You look beautiful," he says, thickly. He'd been content here, but now he suddenly, and keenly, wants to go back home.

She just grins up at him, widely, and he can feel her fingers working the shirt at his back.

"C’mon. Let’s go inside."

-

They talk for a while, just about the normal things.

He talks about the people at the local general store, the characters you receive in a small beach community. She talks about the students at the academy, their eagerness, their foibles.

They dance around all the potential dangers in their conversation, and it feels good.

"Life seems to suit you out here," she comments over her coffee. "You’ve got a tan."

"I go out and I fish, and I sell some at the market. I hang around town. I don't even really wear a watch anymore." He smiles. "It’s great."

"I wish - "

Her mouth works, and she stops. He knows what she's going to say. He wishes the same.

"I miss the air sometimes, up north. You can't think as clearly when it's always warm."

Her hand reaches out and her thumb skims the tops of his knuckles. "That’s good."

-

They make love one time before she goes. It's dreamy, and quiet.

It's lovely, like everything down here is lovely. Alana doesn't make noise, just gasps when she comes, moonlight pouring over her eyes and face.

Her skin glows, and her breasts heave up in the dark, and Will imagines a line of blood between them, ever darkening, ever widening.

He turns his face away.

-

He guts a fish on his counter, and feeds the innards to the dogs.

Any meat he has, he has to prepare it from beginning to end. If he doesn't see the flesh unfold in his hands, he can't have it.

So he mostly subsists on fish and legumes and vegetables. He's thinner now, but he feels fresh. Lean.

Deer meat will sometimes show up at the local store, from hunters further inland. The nausea is only mild these days when he sees it.

-

Will comes through the door with today's haul, and the dogs come bounding up, smelling the fresh kills he has in hand.  
  
He looks up right when Hannibal says, "Hello, Will."  
  
He is, amazingly in this heat, still dressed to the nines - trim blazer with a faded linen shirt, light slacks with fine leather deck shoes and no socks.  
  
Will doesn't say anything, but just goes to the sink to dump his fish. Hannibal had stood when he'd greeted him, obviously having been perusing the crime scene photos on his kitchen island, and he goes back to mulling over them, waiting for Will to respond.  
  
Will just stares at him, numb.  
  
Hannibal gazes back up at him eventually, and since obviously Will isn't going to talk, he initiates conversation:  
  
"It's been a while."  
  
"Not long enough."  
  
Hannibal just smiles at that. He taps at the images. "Your latest work with Jack?"  
  
"I'm surprised you don't already know that. Isn't that how you found me, through Jack?"  
  
"No, it was actually Alana. It was only a matter of time before she came to seek you out."  
  
Will thinks about the gun in the drawer to the left of him.  
  
"You look good, Will. The ocean climate suits you."  
  
"And you look - " Will actually takes a good look at him. Frowns. "Like you haven't been eating well."  
  
It's true. He's thin, has a pallor. While his clothes are still fine, he hasn't been able to maintain the same level of upkeep himself.  
  
A wan smile. "Ah. Well. My fugitive status makes it... imprudent to carry on like before. I take what I can."  
  
"Is that why you're here? Need to stock up your freezer?"  
  
The side of his mouth quirks up. "That would be a waste, Will." He eyes the fish in the sink.  
  
"Come. Let me make you dinner."  
  
-  
  
Even with Will's meager storehouse of spices, Hannibal is of course able to transform a catch of blackfin tuna into a gourmet meal. Will - and he suspects Hannibal as well - hasn't eaten this well in long time.  
  
They don't talk. Hannibal sends out a few conversational gambits but honestly - Will hasn't read anything but what Jack sends him and the local headlines when he passes by the newsstand. In whatever form Hannibal is hiding as, he's still a man of the world.  
  
Will puts his fork down midway through the fish and starts feeding the rest to the dogs. Hannibal raises an eyebrow at that.  
  
"I'm just not that hungry. But it was very delicious."  
  
Hannibal says nothing and continues to eat.  
  
Once the food is done, they silently clear away the table, and as Will is putting the scraped dishes away in the sink, Hannibal comes up behind him and winds an arm around Will's waist, sighing.  
  
Will closes his eyes and feels the weight of Hannibal against him, his hand instinctively coming up to rest on his.  
  
"I've missed you," Hannibal murmurs into the crook of his neck. Will doesn't say anything, but just tries to breathe.  
  
Will has a brief thought about the gun in the drawer again, but then Hannibal is turning him around, nosing up the side of his neck and inhaling deeply.  
  
"You smell clean. Pure."  
  
Will places both hands on Hannibal's face and brings his mouth up to his own.  
  
-  
  
Will listens to the waves crash, again and again, as he and Hannibal make love throughout the night.  
  
-  
  
Will wakes first. He sits up, and eventually looks down at Hannibal, who is facing away from him toward the wall. Naked and in the stark light of morning, he looks thinner than Will had thought.  
  
He gets up, feeds the dogs, lets Hannibal sleep.  
  
Of course, when Will tries to start cooking something, Hannibal is up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes and pulling on his pants, and probably more capable of whipping up a luxurious breakfast half asleep than Will could with practice. Will relents the pans without a word.  
  
Hair hanging in his eyes, Hannibal prepares omelets for two. He looks tired. He looks put-upon, though no one asked him to do this.  
  
They get ready and go into town later, because Will doesn't have enough in his fridge for two people.  
  
He doesn't know how long Hannibal is staying. As they both canvass the aisles for something to eat, they look sickeningly domestic. He knows the cashiers, knows that they are probably thinking they're not surprised that he's a homo. But they'll keep their mouths shut.  
  
When they get home, Will offers to take Hannibal out on his boat, even though Will knows he'll decline and he does. Hannibals says he wants to catch up on his reading, which means catching up on Jack's files for him.  
  
Will knows leaving Hannibal alone, in his home, is a spectacularly stupid idea, that he should sit with him, sit on him, call the police, and make this nightmare go away once and for all.  
  
But it wouldn't end. Not unless they killed him.  
  
Will takes his gun.  
  
-  
  
Hannibal is sitting out on his porch when he comes back, enjoying the sun and the photographs and pages detailing grisly murders. He tucks everything away when he sees Will approaching, and offers to take his catch for him.  
  
Will lets him, because why the fuck not?  
  
Hannibal starts dressing the fish without asking, sleeves rolled up and slicing into cold flesh with surgical precision.  
  
Will stares at his work, blinks, and announces he's going to take a shower. Hannibal nods without looking up.  
  
The gun lays on the bathroom floor as he cleans up.  
  
Hannibal is already starting dinner when he comes out, even though it's only late afternoon. Will watches him, and sees that here, almost more than anywhere else, Hannibal's in his element. He looks relaxed, probably has more color in his cheeks than he has since Will first saw him here.  
  
Will is relaxing, too, and he turns his attention to Jack's files.  
  
The terror is still there, he can feel it, the victims' last horrors and struggles for life, but it's muted now. Bearable. The crime scene photos are images on a page, shapes contorted, with bizarre blotches of dark red.  
  
He can close the file and put it away.  
  
"What are we eating?" he asks Hannibal.  
  
-  
  
Hannibal is smiling to himself at the last bite of his meal. Will has to smile, too, despite himself.  
  
"Good meal?" he asks, indulgent.  
  
"Ah, Will. The _best_." Hannibal gives him a sated smile.  
  
Impulsively, Will leans over and gives him a kiss. It's lazy and open, and Hannibal hums his approval.  
  
Hannibal breaks away first, and Will chases after it. When Hannibal gets up from his seat, Will tries not to frown too hard.  
  
"We mustn't forget dessert," Hannibal says as he goes back to the fridge. He produces two bowls from the freezer and presents them to Will. "Fresh sorbet, with essence of mint."  
  
Will peers into bowls and frowns. "What did you use for it?"  
  
"Various fruits and berries. In particular, pomegranate."  
  
The sorbet is a deep, blood red.  
  
Like a good host, Hannibal is waiting for Will to take the first bite.  
  
Will digs in and brings up a spoonful. In the warm Florida air, it's already melting, dark red drips from the spoon onto the counter.  
  
Will stands and puts himself right in front of Hannibal, leaning back on the island.  
  
"You first."  
  
Hannibal takes a step closer. Will brings the spoon up, and red is running down his arm. Hannibal leans forward and wraps his mouth around it, sucking it all off.  
  
Will is mind-numbingly hard. Which was the point, but before Will can make a move for him, Hannibal grabs his wrist and draws it up his mouth. Hannibal's reddened tongue slides out and Will loses his breath as the flesh of it licks the entire trail down Will's arm. The spoon falls out of his hand and clatters on the floor, and Hannibal goes down with it.  
  
Will has to shut his eyes hard when Hannibal goes to take him in. His heart is pounding in his head and he can hear himself whimpering. Hannibal's mouth is wet, drippingly cold and wet, and Will aches and wants to be anywhere but here.  
  
-  
  
Hannibal is quiet as he moves inside of him, and Will holds on, moaning quietly and pressing his face against Hannibal's neck.  
  
They kiss like two people who have known each other a very long time, and Hannibal gasps into his mouth, and Will looks up at him in something akin to awe and wonder.  
  
"Will," Hannibal says, "Let me tell you what happened with Abigail."  
  
Will can only gasp out a " _no -_ " before Hannibal slaps a hand over his eyes and starts whispering fiercely into his ear.  
  
"I served her as a feast to a dear, dear friend, because it was the only way to honor her, Will," and Will is trying to claw at Hannibal's back but he's all over him and too strong.  
  
"I stored her brains for later, a dinner for new college graduates from the local medical school. Her lungs and her heart went to a charity function for unwed mothers, her stomach to a homeless girl I'd passed on the way home from my work, liver and kidneys to a small herd of cows and their newborn calves at a farm tucked in the valley, and all the other precious parts of her to those worthy in our community. She was one of the most beautiful creatures I'd ever seen, Will, and I'd honored her the best way I know how."  
  
Will is helplessly crying into Hannibal's hand.  
  
"She should have been one of us, Will. She would have been magnificent."  
  
Will's vision whites out, because he is coming harder than he's ever had in his life.  
  
-

They are lying face to face. Will's tears are still drying.  
  
"Stay here," Will whispers to him in the soft dark.  
  
Hannibal cups his face, and Will can barely make out the smile on his lips.  
  
"No, my dear boy, I must be getting back."  
  
Will thinks about using his hands, thinks about even running to the bathroom to get his gun. He would make him stay, and they would all be safe. Even Hannibal.  
  
Will curls into Hannibal's chest, and he is soft and warm, like a living, breathing thing is supposed to be.  
  
Hannibal wraps his arms around him, and murmurs in his hair.  
  
"Will. It wasn't anybody tonight."    
  
Will closes his eyes and quietly grieves, because he knows it's true.

-  
  
 _I cut her throat, quickly, cleanly. She goes quietly, and does not suffer long._  
  
 _I slice her ear, her left one, her non-dominant one. The multilation is unbecoming, but it's necessary._  
  
 _She will go by fire, because fire burns away all things until they are pure. I will save the ash, I will save everything, even the smoke that carries the last of her away - it will permeate what's left of her._  
  
 _She will go to all I deem worthy, all whom I allow to be touched by grace._  
  
 _She was grace, but I am God, and I decided I had to call her back to the fold._  
  
 _This is my design._  
  
Will whispers all this softly to Hannibal in the early morning, as he sleeps.  
  
-  
  
Hannibal will leave. He will leave, and Will will say goodbye, to the house, to the ocean, to where the sand meets the horizon, because he will pack his things and go back north.  
  
He will call Jack, he will ask to rejoin the team, he will ask for the resources to catch the Ripper.  
  
He will come face to face again with Hannibal, and he will have his gun in hand and the will to fire.  
  
He will not fire. Not even for him.  
  
This is his design, and he has to remember it for the coming days.  
  
Will prays that he will remember it.  
 

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings: cannibalism, character death, gore, guns, homophobic slur, and sexual coercion.


End file.
